The Fountain of Fair Fortune: The Hogwarts Play
by skyflytress
Summary: Professor Beery has decided to direct the classic wizarding tale of the The Fountain of Fair Fortune as a Christmas pantomime at Hogwarts. But little does he know of the chaos, love triangles, and injuries that will ensue...


Author's Note: Hi! Before the story begins, I just want to include the disclaimer that these characters are the property of the wonderful JK Rowling. The idea for this story was drawn from Rowling's _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ about how The Fountain of Fair Fortune was once performed at Hogwarts as a play. So, I decided to show you my own take of how things played out. I hope you enjoy it, and please review if you have the time. Thanks!

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><p><span>Chapter 1<span>

Professor Albus Dumbledore strolled the halls of Hogwarts, his long robes swishing against his legs in a delightful fashion—at least, he thought it was delightful. There was something oddly comforting about sporting the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry teaching robes. It was like a second skin, and he had missed wearing them over the summer. So much so that during his vacation he had on a few occasions worn them just for fun, drawing curious stares from his neighbors. But of course, he didn't mind. Instead, he had convinced a number of them to try on his robes as well, taking commemorative pictures with a camera that flashed purple smoke that he had received for a Christmas gift the year previous.

"Professor!" someone called.

Dumbledore glanced down to see a timid 1st year approach him from across the hall.

"Yes Billy?" he asked. The boy's name was William Flighten, but he preferred to be called "Billy." Most of the teachers kept with the slightly more formal "William," but Dumbledore didn't have any qualms using the boy's nickname. He had always hated it as a child when teachers refused to call him "Al," a name he had deemed much cooler than "Albus."

"Sir, I forgot to write down the homework for your class." Billy was scarlet, his chubby hands clutching his school agenda tightly.

"Ahh yes," Dumbledore nodded. Billy often forgot to copy down his assignments, but he always managed to find out what was needed to be done before next class. He was forgetful, but an extremely bright 11 year old. "You are to read Chapter 4 in your Transfiguration text book. No written assignments, but there will be an essay due next week." He smiled and the kid nodded, quickly jotting it down with his slightly rumpled quill.

"Thank you sir!" Billy said, and quickly hurried off in the direction of the kitchens, his yellow tie trailing him like a kite tail as he ran. Dumbledore had no doubts that Billy would be heading off to the Hufflepuff common room to get the work done. Dumbledore had been a Transfiguration teacher for several years now. People knew him as a kind professor, but not one to be trifled with. Dumbledore's prestigious past followed him wherever he went, and the students knew not to mess with such an influential wizard.

Dumbledore continued his journey to the staff room, eager to enjoy his short break. He had an hour before his next class, and it was nearly tea time. He held in his left hand a small white paper bag. Inside was an assortment of lemon drop cookies, his favorite type despite the fact that it was primarily a Muggle favorite. He had gotten this particular batch during the first school trip to Hogsmeade in October and was running dangerously low. He hoped he still had a few left by Christmas. He knew the house elves could whip up a delightful batch in a jiffy, yet he liked the ones sold at Honeydukes much more. It was probably because the people at Honeydukes didn't care about how much sugar was in each cookie, unlike the suddenly health-conscious house elves at Hogwarts.

He opened the door to the staffroom, expecting it to be as quiet as usual with teachers grading homework beside their steaming tea cups, but Dumbledore was quite mistaken. As soon as he stepped foot inside, he saw Professor Herbert Beery standing on top of a chair, looking frazzled as he exclaimed something very loudly and very quickly. Dumbledore had no idea what the Herbology teacher was saying, and the other professors in the room seemed to share the same sentiment, staring at the man confusedly as he ranted and raved.

"Herb," Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes crinkled behind his spectacles, "what on earth are you saying? And what are doing up on the chair? Are you trying to break your neck?"

Herb looked at Dumbledore and immediately exhaled a sigh of relief, throwing his arms to the sky in exasperation. The man was stout and short, with pudgy fingers and deep black hair that Dumbledoere expected had undergone multiple dying spells.

"Here is the man who will understand my plea!" Herb said, coming down off the chair with a little leap and rushing over to Albus.

"Plea?" Dumbledore asked confusedly. "Herb, I just came in here for some tea and cookies." He dug out a lemon drop. "Would you like one?"

"No no no!" Herb said furiously. Dumbledore thought it odd how his earlobes wiggled as he shook his head back and forth. "Dumbledore, I am trying to propose a school play. A Christmas pantomime to be more precise."

"Well, that doesn't seem to be too bad of an idea…" Dumbledore said slowly, wondering what the problem was. "Have you asked Headmaster Dippet for approval?"

"Not yet. I was asking the teachers their opinions first," Herb said, gesturing to the room where only two other professors sat, having returned to their breaks now that the interruption had stopped. "And they said they didn't think it could be done!"

"Well," Dumbledore said reasonably, "Christmas _is_ only two weeks away…"

Herb looked at him desperately. Dumbledore sighed, feeling compassion stir up in his stomach; it was a slightly annoying sensation, though he had started growing fond of it recently. Compassion was never a bad thing, though it did always seem to make life just a little more complicatedn. "But I think it's a fairly good idea. Hogwarts students should be exposed to the arts more."

Herb's eyes brightened. "Yes! Yes! That's what I thought too! I knew you'd understand. So it's settled! You'll help me with the play."

Dumbledore nearly spit out his cookie. It was only his intense love of lemon drops that kept the crumbs from spraying out of his mouth and landing on his short beard. "What?"

"I need a teacher's help!" Herb repeated. He gestured to the other two in the room. "Slughorn and Gliff here already turned me down"

"It's just too short a time frame!" Professor Slughorn interjected in his own defense. The plump potion's master had about twenty small vials in front of him filled with mostly orange liquid, no doubt grading one of his class' attempts at brewing some sort of concoction. "If this had been brought up in September, I would have happily agreed, Herb. But the holidays are fast approaching, and we have mid-terms…"

Herb mumbled something not so nice under his breath.

Dumbledore sighed. He was a proponent for the arts himself, and he only was able to enjoy plays over summer vacation since Hogwarts had never had a lasting drama club. And although there were only a few weeks left until Christmas, he was confident the students of Hogwarts could whip together something that was halfway decent in that amount of time. And unlike Slughorn, he didn't have a good reason to decline. He was on top of all of his grading and his mid-term exam was already written.

"Oh alright Herb. You win. But get it approved thorough Dippet first! He might have some strange aversion to pantomimes, and we don't want to anger the Headmaster. He is the one who pays us, after all."

Herb looked positively enthralled. He grabbed Dumbledore's free the hand—the other one still held his quickly diminishing supply of lemon drops—and stammered thank you's. "Oh this is wonderful! Thank you so much Albus! Thank you! I'll have to post signs advertising auditions for tomorrow afternoon, and secure practice space in the Great Hall… I'll even make you co-director if you wish, Albus! Yes! How does that sound?"

"Er… How about I just stick with stage crew?" Dumbledore said with a kind smile, freeing his crushed hand and eating another cookie for good measure. For some reason, he felt like he was going to need it.


End file.
